


Harvest Moon

by Foolsparsley (Freckleberg)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Because I'm Still In Love With You, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Smut, Sorry But I Like My Sex Tinged With Anguish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26138845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckleberg/pseuds/Foolsparsley
Summary: They stopped when they reached the dense tree cover of the woods. Her hands found him instantly; one hand on either arm, her slender fingers exerting a grip that was forceful, possessive. He responded to her touch with his own: one hand at the small of her back pulling her into him, and the other turning her head to bring her lips up to meet his.  His kiss was soft at first. His lips barely pressing against her own - like a scent on the wind, enticing her, drawing her in. He lingered, waiting for her response.------(Almost entirely plotless angst, fluff and light smut)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 13
Kudos: 42
Collections: Yenralt Week





	Harvest Moon

**Author's Note:**

> For the theme: "Destiny".
> 
> (Ok, so I started off with an idea for a line about destiny, and then the whole thing kind of spiraled in a bunch of other directions, but I still like it, so now you get to read it).

_They stopped when they reached the dense tree cover of the woods. Her hands found him instantly; one hand on either arm, her slender fingers exerting a grip that was_ _forceful, possessive. She marveled at the feel of his arms beneath her fingers, soft to the touch, but solid too._

 _He responded to her touch with his own: one hand at the small of her back pulling her into him, and the other holding just under her jaw so he could turn her head to bring her lips up to meet his._ _His kiss was_ _soft at first. His lips barely pressing_ _against her own - like a scent on the wind, enticing her, drawing her in. He lingered, waiting for her response._

_She was not so timid - she knew what she wanted and that she would get it, there was no point in playing shy. She kissed him forcefully, opening her mouth against his, her tongue flicking out to lash against his own. He responded in kind, his grip on her jaw tightening as he pulled her mouth against his. She felt the scratching of his stubble against her cheek, as he dragged rough, messy kisses along her lips, to the corner of her mouth, across her cheek and down to her neck, becoming more forceful and fervent with each touch. She lent into him;_ _she could feel her body being consumed by a familiar hunger - every fiber of her being aching with a_ _desperate need to have him, completely, as soon as possible. She drew him to her with reckless abandon._

\--------------------

Geralt didn't like human festivals. A witcher was not always a welcome interloper amongst humans, and so a gathering of a large number of boisterous, drunk humans was not his ideal setting. But the Alderman had insisted Geralt attend the harvest festival to collect his reward for slaying the bruxa. So, here he was. 

Dusk was falling; the sky alight in orange and deep purple. The little clearing by the town mill was lit up with lanterns and a merry bonfire, merchants had stalls selling pumpkin soup, dandelion wine and autumn wildflower garlands. In the middle of the clearing was a musical troupe ready to delight with songs of love, heartache, and warm autumn nights. A cheerful crowd of townsfolk had gathered, merrily eating soup and exchanging stories of the harvest. In front of the band, the young ones twisted about each other in formation, dancing well worn-steps, occasionally catching the eye or the hand of an admirer. 

He scanned his eyes over the crowd, looking for nothing in particular, as the scene was utterly ordinary. And then he saw her. 

A black diamond glittering among gray pebbles: Yennefer stood out wherever she went. While the young women of the town wore bright colors - reds and yellows, the colors of autumn leaves - Yennefer, as always, wore black - a long sleeveless dress that was covered entirely in shimmering black crows' feathers. The young women of the town sought to be admired and plucked, like harvest wildflowers. Yennefer demanded to be revered and feared, like a bird of prey. 

Geralt could not imagine what she was doing here, though it hardly mattered. They had been driven back into each other's lives by chance or destiny countless times before, against both of their wills and better judgment. No matter how many times their coupling ended in heartbreak and tumult, it was always the same. Like the passing of the phases of the moon: she would shine brightly for a time in his night sky, illuminating everything she touched; but all too soon she would retreat or he would drive her away, leaving his world dark, longing for her return. 

\----------

_He moved his hand from under her jaw to the nape of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair. With his other hand at her back, he pulled her body against his with a satisfying thud. The contact sent sparks shivering across her body. Everywhere their bodies touch felt like it was pulsating with its own chaotic power. He kissed her jaw, her neck, down to her collar bones, and across the top curve of her breasts. She gasped with pleasure, her lips just above his ear. His grip on her tightened in response._

_She slipped her hands under his shirt, her palms pressing against his hard stomach, then moving up, across his taut muscles to his chest. She traced her fingers lightly across his nipples and felt him laugh softly, his lips against her neck. He bit her playfully in response._

_She tugged his shirt off over his head, bearing his skin to the warm autumn night air. He moved forward to grab her again, but she put a hand against his chest to stop him and pointed to his pants. He dutifully removed them with a grin, along with his britches. Then he pulled her close again, and moved his hands to the back of her dress and released the corset strings. The dress slipped off her like water, pooling on the ground at her feet._

\---------------

A smile flickered across her lips as their eyes met, before she looked away, pretending not to notice him. She wouldn't approach him, he knew; he would have to come to her.

Geralt weaved his way through the crowd, moving smoothly left and right to avoid the dancing young ones as they twirled about the field. Yennefer looked utterly radiant - her dark tresses shining like spilled ink down her back, her skin glowing in the light of the bonfire. He didn't take his eyes off her for a moment. She steadfastly pretended to look away, but Geralt could see a glint of violet under her long lashes, as she watched him from the corner of her eye. She could be so childish and coy, even though they were both far too old for such games.

When he reached her, she was standing by the little flower stall selling garlands, intently examining the flowers. "Geralt," she greeted him, without looking up.

"Yennefer," he replied. "It's nice to see you."

"Is it?" She asked, her eyes darting sharply to meet his. "Strange that you would say so, since you couldn't wait to get away from me the last time we met."

"Yen, don't-"

"I know," she cut him off, looking away. "I shouldn't spoil it. It's a lovely evening, and here we both are. There's no need for me to be sharp with you."

Geralt shifted uncomfortably. He was desperate to reach out and hold her, to touch her hand, kiss her fingertips, press his cheek against the top of her head and breathe in the scent of lilac and gooseberries in her hair; but he was afraid of driving her away. Like a bird, she was liable to take flight if he got too close. 

She turned to look at the flower garlands again, brushing her slender fingers over the delicate petals of a vibrant red bloom. The young men of the village were jostling nearby, hurrying to buy crowns for the village girls who received them with giggles and blushes.

"Shall I buy you a garland?" Geralt asked.

Yennefer smiled and withdrew her hand from the flowers to touch her hair, where a mesmerizing flower crown of black roses and purple lilacs materialized by magic. "I don't need you to give me things," she said.

He laughed, _by Melitele she was stubborn._ "That I know well, Yen."He took a step closer to her; close enough that he could feel the crackle of energy that always sparked between them; close enough that when she looked up at him he could see every shade of violet in her incredible eyes and every crease of her pink lips. "Why don't you give _me_ something then: a dance?" he held out his hand for her to take.

"I thought you didn't like dancing," she said.

"I don't," he said. "But I like to see you dance."

_\-------------_

_They fell together onto the soft forest floor and were instantly covered in fallen autumn leaves. She laughed: a warm, honest laugh that she felt only when she was with him. He held her close, and kissed along her neck, to her shoulder, down her arm, and then pulled her hand up to his mouth to kiss each one of her fingertips. She held his gaze as he did, fascinated by the way his amber eyes flickered in the moonlight._

_Without warning, h_ _e rolled onto his back and pulled her naked body against his own. He positioned her hips where he wanted them, his hands firmly on her hip bones, exerting control. She gave him a wry smile, and sat up straight, pushing back against his grip with her hips to let him know she wouldn't surrender to him so easily. She arched her back and tossed her long black hair behind her, showing off her bare breasts in the moonlight. He drew in a sharp breath, mesmerized by the sight of her._ _Satisfied she had proved who was in control, she parted her thighs to mount him, letting out a little murmur of pleasure as he entered her._ _They moved together as if to music; their own private dance._

_\-------------_

She placed her cool palm against his outstretched hand. Reflexively, he clasped her fingers tightly so she couldn't slip away. "I will dance with you, Geralt," she said, "and then I will kiss you and follow you into the little forest by the stream so that we can make love there on the fallen leaves, but after that, I will leave."

Her words burnt him like embers from a fire; enticing and painful all at once. "You don't have to leave."

"But I do," she said. "That's our fate, Geralt. That's our destiny. A twisted curse where we are forced to repeat the same motions, each time to be drawn together and then drive each other away." Geralt felt his ribs constricting, crushing the air from his lungs. He wanted to say something, to convince her otherwise, but he knew by now that arguing with Yennefer was pointless. 

"Come, don't give me that pained look," she said. She took him by the hand and pulled him out into the autumn field among the other dancers. "We've many pleasant things to enjoy before all that. I thought you said you liked to see me dance?" 

"I do," he said. He spun her around in time with the other dancers, then pulled her close and wrapped her in both of his arms. She rested her head against his chest, as they swayed slowly, completely ignoring the proper steps and dancing quietly in their own world, while the rest faded into nothingness. 

\-----------------

_They lay together on the fallen leaves, catching their breath. She rested her head on his chest, and counted his slow, heavy heartbeats; one beat of his heart to ten of her own. He ran his fingers through her hair, gently picking out the little twigs and leaves that had tangled there from the forest floor. She let herself enjoy his touch, the feel of his skin against hers, for one hundred of his heartbeats. And when her time was up, she stood up to leave._

_"Yen-" he said, as she slipped back into her dress._

_"Don't," she said. "Don't spoil it. It's a lovely night. Let me just remember us here, in the light of the harvest moon."_

_He fell silent. She summoned a portal: to where she neither knew nor cared. "Until we meet again, Geralt."_

_"Until we meet again, Yen."_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments are love.


End file.
